Sincerely, Peter
by SenseiGrace
Summary: Lara Jean wasn't the only one who wrote letters that would never be sent, Peter did too. Except unlike his girlfriend's letters, they weren't to the people he loved, but to the one man he hates.
1. Prologue

**Hey, guys!**

**Happy New Years Eve! This year I guess I'm wrapping up the decade with a new fanfic. I hope you all had a wonderful year, and a wonderful decade, and I hope this upcoming year/decade is even better!**

**So, this book is dedicated to aliqueen16, because this idea was originally hers, but I decided to be super inspired and run with it. Thanks, Ali!**

**Well, I hope you all enjoy the prologue!**

* * *

_Prologue_

My name is Peter Kavinsky. The oldest son of Sara and William Kavinsky, and the older brother of Owen Kavinsky. I'm the goalie of the Adler High School lacrosse team, and on the side I'm in choir. But out of everything in my life the most important thing to me is my girlfriend, Lara Jean Song-Covey.

Let me tell you a bit about Lara Jean. For starters, she's the most amazing girl on the planet, she's real silly and quirky too. We got together when a bunch of love letters of her's got sent by her sister, and I was one of the boys who got a letter. We fake dated for a few months before the feelings became real and we decided to try our luck.

But we were more similar than I had thought. You see, she wasn't the only one who wrote letters that would never be sent. I did too, but these letters weren't written to people I loved like Lara Jean's were. Mine are letters to the one person I hate.

Well, I don't really hate him, but I will never forgive him for what he did to me and my family.

Lara Jean told me that I needed to talk more about my feelings, and stop locking people out, so I decided to tell my story. Inside of this story you will read countless letters to the man I hate, and the story of how this all happened. Plus, if you stay for long enough, you'll get to see how it all ends too.

* * *

_Two years ago._

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that I had thrown my alarm clock into the floor while I was sleeping. The second thing I smelled was Dad's famous blueberry pancakes. (They weren't really famous, but that was what he called them.)

I jumped out of bed and ran into Owen's room to wake him up, and then sighed when I realized that he was already out of bed, and probably eating my pancakes. I wished that Dad and Mom won't let him eat all of them before I get downstairs.

So I ran down the stairs as loudly as I could. To make my presence known, of course.

"Good morning, Kiddo," Dad greets from the stove as he flips another pancake. "You doin' okay? You sounded a bit like an earthquake, Bud."

I rolled my eyes, and then poured myself a glass of orange juice. I know that most smart people will never drink orange juice before eating something sweet, like Dad's pancakes, but I don't mind the weird flavor. Owen cringes every time I do this. I just laugh because he likes to drink milk with his.

"Happy Tuesday, Sara," Dad told Mom as she walked in, earning one of Mom's warmest smiles back.

"Good morning, William," She said as she cradled her coffee mug close to her chest.

I smiled at Mom as she ruffled my hair, and then I dug into my pancakes without another care in the world.

That night, I wrote Dad a letter. In fact, I used to write him a lot of letters.

* * *

Dear Dad,

The pancakes this morning were great. If you keep perfecting the recipe this much they might actually become famous! Could you imagine that? Imagine getting rich off of a pancake recipe!

Thanks for letting me sleep in today. Yes, I know it was you because you're the only person who knew that I stayed up all night working on that Algebra test. And thanks for making sure Owen didn't eat all of them while I slept in.

School today was great. Gen told me that she had a crush on me, and I told her that I liked her back! Can you believe it, Dad? GEN LIKES ME!

Oh, and I got a perfect score on my lit test, but GENEVIEVE LIKES ME!

Coach says that he wants to see you after school this week to talk about how I'm doing in lacrosse. I hope he says that I'm doing good, I don't wanna be kicked off the team. Will you tell me how the meeting goes?

Well, I think that's all for today, Dad. Today was a pretty good day.

Your loving son,

Peter.

* * *

_Today_

I'll admit that I should have been paying more attention and I'll admit that the pancakes on Tuesday should have raised some red flags. But I was too caught up in the other crazy things that life was throwing me to pay attention to the biggest betrayal I was about to be a part of.

You see, Dad only made pancakes on Sunday, and even though there had been times when he would make them on other days, like on holidays or birthdays, but he never just made them without reason during the week.

Well, if I had paid more attention the night before, and looked away from my homework I would have taken into account how disheveled he had looked, and if I had looked closer, I might have paid more attention to the red lipstick stains that trailed down his neck.

If I had been paying more attention, he never would have gotten such a happy letter from me, because I found out later that those pancakes were made out of guilt. Guilt because that was the first time he had cheated on Mom, but he thought he could cover the guilt with blueberry pancakes.

The letters in this book are to the one man I hate, but he wasn't always the man I hated. Before he was the man I hated, he was my Dad.

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**I hope you enjoyed the prologue! Please follow, favorite, and review! I would love to know what you thought!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter one

**Hey, guys!**

**Happy new year! I hope you have a great year!**

**A HUGE thanks to everyone who's reviewed. It means so much to me.**

**I hope you all enjoy chapter one.**

* * *

_Chapter one_

Dad first started cheating on Mom in the last couple weeks of school. Owen and I barely noticed anything at first, except that they fought more often than normal, but we assumed that it would pass like all of their marital struggles.

As the fighting got worse, and Dad spent more time with the woman he was cheating with Mom on, I began to realize that if it ever did pass than it would be like a kidney stone. Slow and painful.

There would be days when I wait outside on the front porch for Dad to take me to school, but he never showed up. That was when I started taking the bus again. It was also when I promised myself that I would never take the bus once I got my drivers license. So far, I've done pretty good with that promise.

I still remember the day everything went from bad to worse. The day that their marriage exploded. The day the kidney stone passed.

* * *

_Two years ago_

I sighed, and then tossed my backpack onto my bed. School was finally over, and not just for the day, but for the summer.

Everything was already planned out. Tonight my family would go to the theater and choose a movie to see, and then we would go to Tart and Tangy. I would get my usual key-lime yogurt with crushed oreos, Mom would get something super healthy, Dad would put as much chocolate on his as possible, and Owen would copy off of one of us.

I changed out of my lacrosse outfit, and then ran downstairs to get a snack before dinner. I was always hungry after lacrosse practice.

I stopped when I reached the table though, because on the table was a letter addressed to me. It was Dad's handwriting.

Greedily, I grabbed the letter off of the table, and tore into it.

* * *

Dear Peter,

I'm sorry that I had to tell you this over a letter, but I couldn't tell you the truth to your face. But you're old enough to know the truth. I know that you're not a baby anymore.

You've probably noticed that I've been at the house less and less in the past few weeks, and that when I was home your mother and I were always fighting.

Peter, did you know that it's possible to no longer love your true love?

Peter, I'm leaving, and I'm going to live with my new girlfriend. It turns out I was wrong when I married your mother. She might have been my true love, but not my forever true love.

You see, I married your mother because she found out she was pregnant with you after a one night stand. I thought I was in love with her when she had you, and when she had Owen. It turns out that I was wrong.

I'm not coming home tonight, or tomorrow. Not even the day after.

Your father,

William Kavinsky.

* * *

"Peter?" Mom asked as she walked in, but I could barely see her over the tears that had stopped swimming in my eyes and were instead pooling over. "Peter, Honey, what's wrong?"

I wiped my runny nose on my sleeve without thinking, and then cringed when I noticed what I had done.

I looked up at her, and then let out a small whimper. My Mom and Dad never truly loved each other, they were only ever together because of me. "Mama, he's gone…"

Mom swallowed then looked around the room. She sighed as she brushed her hair back into place. "I know, Pete," she said, and then wrapped her arms around me, "I know."

* * *

That night I laid in bed, but I couldn't sleep. Who could sleep after finding out that you were just a mistake that ruined your parents lives?

I rolled onto my side, and curled into the fetal position. Being a mistake hurts. You start to wonder that if you hadn't been born if your parents would be happier, but then you remember that you did exist, and that it is your fault that your family is now broken into a billion different pieces. All because you exist.

"Pete? Are you still awake, Honey?"

I pushed the covers off of my head, and looked up at Mom. "What are we gonna tell Owen?" I asked. My voice cracked halfway through, and then the tears started up again.

"Hey, hey, hey…" Mom soothed then scooped me up into her arms, and started to rock me back and forth. "Peter, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna figure this out, I promise."

"I'm so so sorry." I told her as I curled closer to her. This was all my fault.

"For what, baby?" She asked as she brushed my hair away from my face, and wiped away my tears. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Before I could stop it, a sob escaped my lips. My entire life I thought that my parents loved me and that they were happy, but it was all a lie, and it was all my fault.

"For being born." Even though my words were quiet, saying them aloud felt like they were being screamed. Knowing that I was a mistake made my stomach ache. Saying it aloud made my stomach twist with nausea.

Even though it was dark in the room, I watched as Mom paled, and her eyes filled with tears. "So that's what that letter said…" She whispered, but I think it was more to herself than to me.

She gently cupped my face in her hands then looked at me. She smiled sadly at me, almost like she was pitying me. I didn't want anyone's pity. "Peter, you may not have been planned, but whatever your father said about me and him was a lie. We loved each other, for a really long time. This isn't your fault. I promise."

I nodded and pretended like I believed what she was saying, but it's a mother's job to make you feel like you're important and loved. And Dad's letter told me that I wasn't.

She left the room a few minutes later, after all, the shop still had to open tomorrow morning if we wanted to pay the bills this month.

I tried to relax myself by listening to the sound of the bugs and animals outside, but it wasn't working. My mind was just too loud to hear the bugs over it.

I rolled over and grabbed my pen and a piece of paper that my Dad left on my nightstand. Since letters were our thing, he always left me a piece of paper to write on.

* * *

Dear Dad,

How could you?

Do you even know what you've done? Or is this just all a big joke, and you'll walk into the kitchen tomorrow and ruffle mine and Owen's hair?

Speaking of Owen, what's gonna happen to him? He needs a dad, but you aren't gonna be there anymore.

And what about Mom? Who will help her make runs to estate sales and beat the Epstein's to the good stuff?

Who's gonna be there when Owen has a nightmare, or gets sick? Who's gonna be there when Mom gets a migraine and has to spend the whole day in bed?

Dad, did you think of any of this before you left or was that new girl just too important?

You left me with a lot of questions, but no way to answer them.

Also, the next time you leave someone, at least have the decency to tell them that they were a mistake to their face.

Also, if you didn't want me that bad, you should have used protection. It wasn't my fault that you didn't use any, it was just my fault that I was born.

Your biggest mistake,

Peter.

* * *

**Well, there's chapter one! I hope you all enjoyed! Please follow, favorite, and review! I would love to know your thoughts!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter two

**Hey, guys!**

**As this is another daily update, and January 3rd isn't very exciting I don't really have much to say. Although I would like to thank everyone who has read up to this point. **

**I would also like to say that I'm having surgery on my elbow on the 6th, so the updates will probably cease to exist in a few days, but I will try for at least one more update before then.**

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

_Chapter two_

As I've gotten older it's been a bit easier to accept that I wasn't the product of much more than a hookup, but the way I found out is still an open wound.

You see, Dad was my hero. He always knew what to say, and if something was wrong he always knew what to do. But he isn't my hero anymore. Mom is.

Mom picked up Dad's slack before I even had a chance to ask her about it. When I wrote my first letter to Dad after he left, I was genuinely worried about what would happen to us. Now I realized that Mom already knew what to do.

Obviously I helped her, but there was only so much I could do at fourteen. I tried to make dinner on nights where I didn't have much homework, but it didn't take long before we all realized that I couldn't cook more than a microwave dinner and raman.

So I tried other things. I found out that I was really good with laundry, and Mom was okay with me doing that task. I also started cleaning more, and helping more with Owen. Except for Owen's homework, Mom did that with him.

The shop stopped bringing in as much money for a while after Dad left because the Epstein's always got to the sales before Mom did. And as much as I hated long car drives, I promised myself that I would do any pick-ups that she needed me to do. Because I was sick of the Epstein's always getting what Mom's store needed. What we needed.

It got real cold that winter. So cold that Mom told me that it was the coldest winter since the year I was born.

It was definitely the worst winter of my life.

* * *

_Two years ago_

I looked up from my homework as mom walked in the front door. Her normally perfect hair was coming out of its bun in the most messy way imaginable. Her eyes looked real tired too.

"Did the Epstein's get there first again?" I asked softly. She looked like she probably had a headache from the long drive.

"Where's Owen?" She asked, answering my question with a question. The Epstein's definitely got there first.

"He's at a sleepover, remember?" I told her. I knew that work had been hard on her, so I also watched over Owen a lot too. "It's with Jamey."

She sighed then nodded "That's right. I remember now…"

I bit my lip, and then looked down at my homework again. Honestly, as soon as you think you're having a bad day, stupid Algebra decides to be about money. It was like the world was mocking me and my family.

"Hey, go grab the phone," Mom told me. It was sudden, so sudden that I jumped when she said it.

"Huh?" I asked, the adrenaline making me forget what she had asked.

"The phone, and the menu for the pizza place," she said again. "Since it's just you and me, I think a bit of splurging is in order. Let's throw a little party."

I frowned, but then I did as I was told. I didn't see any reason to party, but I also didn't want to give her a reason to leave me too.

"Why are we gonna party?" I asked as I handed her both the phone and the menu.

"Because even though the Epstein's are faster than me, and William left us, and money is a bit hard to get right now. I still have my Peter, and that's all I need," she said, and I couldn't hold back a grin.

"So, pepperoni?" She asked, as she looked up from the menu.

I laughed. "Meat Lovers, Mom!" I told her with a roll of my eyes. She rolled her eyes back at me.

When it went quiet, Mom spoke. "You know I'm never gonna leave you, right?"

I looked up at her, and frowned when I saw the tears in her eyes. I knew that all of this had been really hard for her, but I also knew that she hadn't cried yet.

"You know that, right? Right?" She asked, and I nodded my head. There was no reason to make her feel like I didn't trust her as a parent not to leave me.

"Let's just get the pizza, Mom," I said. "I'll go turn on Fight Club too."

Mom nodded, and then ordered the pizza while I turned on the movie. We both knew that I hadn't answered her question, but I knew that I would never give her the answer because I can't trust anyone not to leave me. Not even my own Mother.

That night, I started a new letter to Dad. You see, now that this was becoming a habit, I knew that I had to find a place to put them so no one would ever send them. Because even though they were addressed to Dad, the letters were for my eyes only.

I put the letters in Dad's old black tackle box. I knew that it was a safe place because Dad hadn't come back for it and he probably never would. So that's where they went.

I picked up my pen and started to write.

* * *

Dear Dad,

It's hard to believe that you've been gone for over six months. It's hard to believe that you've been gone for that long because time has gone so slow since you left. Almost like someone put life into slow motion.

Mom knows that you called me a mistake, and ever since she's been trying to prove to me that I am still loved. I do know that she loves me, that was never even a worry in my mind. My worry is that one day she'll leave me.

Business at the shop is slow. I honestly don't think we're making much money right now. I heard Mom talking about budgets and cuts and stuff. And the Epstein's keep beating Mom to all the good stuff.

We watched Fight Club tonight, me and mom, at least. Remember when that was our thing?

The kids at school started bullying me when they found out that you left. They blamed it on me, but it's really your fault.

Gen asked me out, and I said yes, but we're not sure when the date will actually happen. I'm hoping to take her to Corner Cafe, but she wants to go to Tart and Tangy. She doesn't understand that Tart and Tangy is on the other side of town and Mom has to work. But we'll figure it out.

Owen is at a sleepover tonight, and Mom is working on more bills. Dad, it's really boring without you here. Is it boring with her around?

I wish I knew her name. I feel like this whole thing would be easier if I knew her name.

Also, it's really cold here.

Your lonely son,

Peter.

* * *

_Today_

Gayle. Her name is Gayle.

You see, I found out her name by accidentally finding Dad's Instagram account a few months after I wrote that letter.

I'll admit that they looked cute together, but if you went far enough through his posts you could find the pictures of us. And that's what hurts. It hurts knowing how easily he replaced us.

I'll also admit that Gayle is pretty, but I'll also acknowledge the fact that my mother is beautiful. If Gayle was a rose, Mom was a sunflower.

Every once in awhile, I'll wonder why Dad did it. Why he left Mom for her, but then I remember that there was once a time where I was head-over-heels for a rose. But the biggest difference was that when I met my sunflower, I left the rose. Dad left his sunflower for a rose.

When Dad left us I was scared and confused, now that it's been over two years ago, I get mad that he left us. Especially because Owen was so young, he needed a dad to help guide him through the next couple of years.

Whenever I see a picture of Dad with his new kid, I can't help but hope that Dad never leaves the kid like he left us, because that kid doesn't deserve it. I mean, Owen didn't deserve it either.

But hey, this is all just… whatever.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed! Please follow, fave, and review! **

**Thanks for reading! Love y'all!**


	4. Part one (Chapter three)

**Hey, guys!**

**So, this chapter is a bit different than the others. This one doesn't have a letter, but it is a series of parts and there will be a letter at the end of the series.**

**This is probably the last chapter before I have surgery, and I honestly can't say when I'll be posting again. Sorry about that.**

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

_Part one. (Chapter three.)_

A lot of things changed with the new year, like old friends of mine refused to hang out with me anymore. Something about how I was a loser because Dad left me, but honestly, there were much more important things happening in my life.

Mom's store was on the verge of closing. Mom said that the bills were getting to be more money than she could afford. I still remember when Owen and I started taking the bus so we could save gas money. We started to cut out a bunch of other things too. We never ate out, and our meals at home weren't very exciting either. I knew that we were scraping the bottom of the barrel, but Mom and I refused to tell Owen.

I remember when Gen would call and beg me to take her out to the movies or to get food, but I had to say no every time. It hurt because I knew that as her boyfriend I was supposed to pay for that stuff, but I just couldn't.

But as bad as I thought life was, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

* * *

_Two years ago_

I sat at the bus stop, waiting for Owen to get out of school. I had promised Mom that I would pick him up after school and we would go to her shop. Now that it was my job to take care of him, it meant that I had to wait outside of school for him to get out too. Luckily for him, lacrosse was over for the season and he didn't have to wait for my practice to end for us to go home.

I looked up as kids began flooding out of the school building and onto the bus. Others went to their parents, and some flocked into groups and began to walk home with their friends. I waved at a few parents that I knew because their older kids were in lacrosse.

Then Owen walked out. He didn't run up to me like he usually did, he walked slowly, stumbling on the steps, but not falling over.

I ran over. I had never seen Owen stumble like that before. "Hey, you okay, bud?" I asked as I put my hand on his shoulder.

Owen buried his face in my chest, and then nodded. "I'm fine," he told me then looked up. "Can we please go home?"

I shook my head. "Mom wants us at the store, remember?" I said. I wished that I could take him home because he looked so miserable, but I didn't wanna make Mom mad.

Owen sighed, but he nodded. "Yeah, I remember…"

Guilt bubbled in my stomach. I hated that he looked so bad, but there was nothing I could do about it because Mom wanted us at the store. "But hey, we'll do whatever you want when we get home. I promise."

"Let's just hurry up and get there before Mom gets mad at us and you get grounded," he told me.

"Hey, I can carry your backpack if you want," I offered. He looked so tired, and I didn't want him to get any worse because he carried a backpack two and a half miles to the store.

He looked up at me, and I frowned. He looked really really pale, and around his eyes was really pink. He shrugged off his backpack. "Thanks," he said then cleared his throat, but not like he was gonna talk more. It was more like his throat was sore.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked him. If I was being honest, I knew for a fact that he was not okay, but I wasn't gonna call him out.

He nodded again, then shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself. "I'll be fine, Peter," he told me. "Just leave me alone."

When we got to the store I was seriously worried about Owen. On the way there, he had started coughing, and he looked even paler than he had when I picked him up.

"Hey, Mom!" I called when we entered. She wasn't behind the counter which meant that she could have been in the back or dusting off some random antique that no one had even looked at this week.

Mom popped her head out from the entrance of the storage closet. "Hey, Babies," she greeted, and then walked out to see us. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"I think Owen is sick, Mom," I told her, earning a glare from my brother.

Mom walked up to us then felt Owen's head. "Are you feeling bad, baby?" She asked as she looked all over him.

Owen hesitated, and then nodded. "Mama, I wanna go home…" He whimpered as he wrapped his arms around her. My ears perked up when he called her mama. We only called her that when we felt bad, which meant that I was right and Owen was sick.

Mom nodded then gently cupped his cheeks. "Of course, sweetie. Of course," she said.

She kissed his forehead and pulled him close before looking up at me. "Peter, can you watch him at the house? I need to stay at the store for a few more hours," she said.

I was just about to nod when I thought of something. "Mom, who's gonna drive us home?" I asked. I was still too young to drive, and the store was way too far to walk home from, especially with a sick kid.

Mom sighed and ran her hands through her hair. It was something she did when she was stressed, it always made me feel like I should be picking up some sort of slack that doesn't normally even exist. "Let me call the neighbors real quick," she said, and then kissed Owen's forehead one last time before going to call the neighbors.

I looked over at Owen, and then wrapped my arm around him. He looked like he was gonna fall over. "Are you okay?" I asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

He looked up at me, his big eyes filled with tears and bloodshot. "No."

* * *

When we got back to our house, I jumped out of the car and helped Owen out before he had the chance to do so himself.

"Peter, I can do it myself," he whispered, and then started coughing.

"Hey, let's get you inside, bud," I told him as I wrapped my arms around him.

As soon as we got inside, I ran upstairs and grabbed his pajamas and the blue blanket Dad got him when he was a baby. I also went to my room and grabbed the blanket Dad bought me when I was a baby. Owen always wanted to sleep with my blanket when he was sick.

"Here," I told him as I handed him the pajamas. He looked even paler than he had at the store. He looked like a ghost. "I'm gonna go make a blanket fort in the living room, and then start some soup for you."

He nodded then took the pajamas and went into the bathroom.

After I set up the fort, I grabbed all of his favorite movies and set them up for him to choose from. When Dad was around, whenever Owen got sick he would set up a fort and marathon all of Owen's favorite movies. He would also hold Owen the whole time.

I wanted to help Owen in every way possible, but I knew that I couldn't be what he really needed. And what he really needed was Dad.

"Hey, bud," I said as he walked in. "Come choose a movie and relax while I start some soup."

He walked over, and then sat down. He grabbed my blanket then pressed his face into it. "Turn on Cars," he demanded.

I nodded then put it in. I knew for a fact Cars wasn't Owen's favorite movies, it was Dad's.

Once the movie began, I left the room to go make the soup. I knew that getting Owen to eat would be hard, but I also knew that he would never refuse a can of Campbell's Chicken and Stars.

I was honestly getting worried about Owen. When he was younger, he was always sick. Normally it was nothing worse than a small cold that would be gone in less than a week, but there were other times when he would be so sick he couldn't even get out of bed. What scared me the most is that Dad wouldn't be there like he always had been.

When the soup started to boil, I poured it into a bowl and brought it to Owen. I wanted to bring some orange juice too, but we were all out. "You ready to eat, bud?" I asked.

Owen looked up at me, and then sighed. "Peter, I don't want it," he told me as he curled farther underneath my blanket.

"C'mon, bud, it's Chicken and Stars. Your favorite," I coaxed as I pushed the bowl towards him.

Owen whimpered and pushed the bowl away from him. "I don't want it, Peter," he said. "I don't feel good."

I sighed. Mom and Dad always made this part look easy, but I hated having to coax Owen to eat. "You'll feel much better after you've eaten."

Owen flashed his big eyes at me, but I knew that this was just a part of his begging. I would not be moved. He would eat at least one bite.

"One bite," I told him. If it had been Dad, Owen would have already eaten the whole bowl, but it was me.

Owen sniffled, and then took a bite. I did an internal cheer for myself because getting Owen to do something that he didn't wanna do was a huge accomplishment.

Owen squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed his stomach. "Peter…" He whimpered.

"Bud, what's wrong?" I asked, but he didn't even have to answer my question, because the next thing I knew he had thrown up all over my blanket.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, and then gagged again. This time nothing came up, and he sat there dry heaving.

I put the bowl of soup on the coffee table, and then picked up the dirty blanket. "Hey, don't apologize," I said as I put the waste basket beside the fort. "I'm gonna go put this in the washing machine."

Owen nodded, and then leaned back against his pillows. "Okay…"

"I'll be back in a minute, bud," I told him, and then left to go put my blanket in the washer.

After I put the blanket in the washer, I pressed my face against the doorframe. I felt the tears come into my eyes and fall out of them. When I wrote my first letter to Dad, I had asked what would happen when Owen got sick, and now I knew. I would force Owen to eat, and it would make him puke.

If Dad had been there, it never would have happened, and Owen wouldn't have puked. But Dad wasn't here anymore. It was just me.

* * *

**So, I hope you all enjoyed. Please follow, fave, and review! I would love to know what you thought.**

**Thanks for reading! Love y'all!**


	5. Part two (Chapter four)

**Hey, guys!**

**So, this is the last chapter before I have surgery, so it's gonna be the last one for awhile. Sorry about leaving y'all in the middle of this series of parts.**

**I hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

_Part two. (Chapter four.)_

The movies had been on all afternoon, but since the Chicken and Stars incident Owen had spent more time sleeping than watching movies.

I sat beside him in the fort, even though he was laying down on a bed of pillows and sleeping. I could almost feel the heat that was coming off of him. It scared me.

He whimpered, and then rolled over to face me. I instantly had the wastebasket beside me and was ready to do anything from catch puke to get him a cool washcloth.

"You okay, bud?" I asked as I brushed his hair away from his eyes. Even though he was practically burning with fever he was sweating buckets and buckets of sweat.

He looked up at me then reached out and grabbed my hand. I gave his hand a little squeeze. I hated seeing him like this. "When is Mama gonna be home?" He asked me, his voice was filled with desperateness and it sounded like he was begging me to call her and make her come home.

"I can call," I offered, but I knew that Mom wouldn't come home from work early unless Owen was really really really sick. Not when we were barely able to afford dinner.

He nodded, and then looked over at the tv. Finding Nemo was playing. "Pete, do you think that Dad will ever come back?" He asked me.

I bit my lip as I looked up from my phone. Owen was nine, he was too young to know that love is a fairy tale and true love is a lie. "No," I told him honestly. What I didn't tell Owen was that I didn't want him to come back either.

"Oh," Owen whispered then went back to watching the movie. I felt bad for telling him that, but I also knew that it was the truth and that he didn't need to be dreaming up fantasies where he came back.

I texted Mom, asking her when she would be back home, but when I didn't get a reply I knew that it would be awhile still. So I decided to focus on Finding Nemo instead.

Right when Nemo was released back to the ocean, my phone buzzed. I looked over at Owen, and sighed when I realized he was asleep again.

I looked down at my phone. Gen was calling.

"Hello?" I answered, hoping to keep my voice quiet enough that I wouldn't wake Owen up again.

"Peter, where are you?" She asked. "We were gonna go to a party tonight, remember?"

I sighed and leaned my head against the palm of my hand. I had forgotten all about the party, and I had also forgotten to tell her that someone was going to have to pick me up because I couldn't use the car anymore. "Gen, I can't," I told her.

"What?" She asked. She sounded so hurt that my chest burned with guilt. "Peter, you promised."

"I know that I promised, Gen. But Owen is super sick right now, and I'm babysitting him," I said. "Rain check?" It felt so lame to take a rain check, but I couldn't leave Owen.

"Ugh. You are so lame, Peter Kavinsky," She told me, and I felt my heart thump real hard in my chest. My own girlfriend thought I was lame. "Why can't you just call a babysitter?"

"Because Owen needs me, Gen," I explained. "And I promised Mom I would do this."

"Fine," Gen said. I could hear how mad she was. It kinda scared me. "I'll see you tomorrow, Peter."

I sighed. I really did want to go to the party, but Owen came first. Owen would always come first.

"Was that Gen?" Owen asked. His voice was soft from sleep, but scratchy from his sore throat.

I nodded. "It was," I told him, and then ran my hands through my hair. "She wanted me to go to a party, but I told her I couldn't."

"Because of me?" He asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, because of you, but don't you even think about feeling guilty for this" I told him. It wouldn't be fair if Owen felt guilty for being sick. It wasn't his fault after all.

He nodded. "Okay, Pete," he said as he laid back onto his bed of pillows.

"Hey, you need to have something to drink," I told him because I knew he would fall asleep again if I didn't bring it up, and I didn't want him to get too dehydrated.

He shook his head. "Peter, I don't wanna…"

I raised my eyebrows, then grabbed his glass of water from the coffee table. I wouldn't force it as hard as I forced the Chicken and Stars, but I would force a bit if needed. "Do you feel sick or do you just not wanna drink it?" I asked, hoping to get the second answer from him instead of the first.

His eyes welled up with tears, and then he buried his face in my chest. "Both!" He cried, and then began to sob.

I held him tight, not saying anything. It wasn't one of those moments when you would say things, it was when you would wish that you really knew how to help them because words wouldn't.

He was burning up. The heat that came off his body was like holding a heater to my chest, I could have roasted a marshmallow over his skin and it would have been perfectly golden brown.

I rubbed his back and stroked his hair for what felt like hours as I waited for him to calm down. When I went to move him, I realized that he had fallen asleep in my arms.

I sighed then put him back on his pillow bed. I needed help. While I knew that Owen wasn't at the worst he had ever been, I also knew that he was getting bad and wouldn't start getting better for a long time. His fever was so high that I was already scared that he would have a seizure if it didn't start to go down.

I just hoped that Mom would be home soon.

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